Page 36 of Blood of Ancients

“I’m familiar with that situation too, big guy,” she muttered at my side, patting my hand. “I think seeing it play out to someone I care about triggers me.” Ravinica’s voice lowered. “I’m sorry if I overreacted.”

Her words slowed my gait. I turned to her, running a hand down the back of her skull, caressing her hair. It was one thing for vigilante Hersirs to target me with their wrath, but hearing the forlorn tone in Ravinica’s voice wasnotokay.

Odin’s balls. How could I forget my little sneak was shunned, abandoned, and ridiculed most her life, just like me? If anyone understands the intense loneliness of solitude, it’s her.

I dipped my head and pressed my lips to hers, surprising her, wrapping her smaller frame in my arms. “You have nothing to be sorry about, sneak,” I whispered in the shell of her ear. Pulling my face back from hers, massaging her chin with the pad of my thumb, I smiled adoringly at her. “You have no idea what it means to have someone care so much about me, Ravinica.”

She sniffed, blinking hard to force back any emotion, and nodded. I caught the slight tremble in her chin, and realized she had been more triggered than she was letting on.

It agonized me to see her like this—so filled with feeling and empathy for someone like me.

“The feeling is mutual, big guy.”

With one more kiss, we continued down the corridor, our fingers entwined.

“I beg you don’t worry about Hersir Jorthyr,” I said after a while. We were getting close to the cafeteria. “He’s still embarrassed and humiliated about me escaping his jail after wrongly arresting me.”

Ravinica barked a quick, humorless laugh. “Good. I hope he stays humiliated.”

I laughed, shaking my head.There’s no denying your vindictiveness, is there? Gods above, I’d hate to be on your bad side.

I said, “So I guess, in that respect, he has Sven, Magnus, and Dagny to blame. They’re the ones who broke me out. Though of course he doesn’t know that.”

“He never will.” Her voice was short, clipped, obviously still thinking about Ingvus and all the twisted ways she wanted to end him.

Who ever said you’re a lousy assassin, hmm?

“He said you belong in acage,Grim. That’s fucked up.”

I raised a finger as we walked. “He said I don’t belongoutsideof one.”

“Semantics.”

“I’ve lived in cages before, lass. Maybe he’s not wrong. Ididkill Anders Rennarfen, after all.”

“Who poisoned you! It wasn’t your fault he induced your berserk rage.”

She had a point. But murder was murder. There was no such thing asgoodmurder, in my mind. Justifiable murder? Well, that was different.

For instance, if anyone tried to harm Ravinica, I wouldjustifiablyslaughter them. I was on the same page with Magnus, Sven, Corym, and Arne in that respect.

As we passed a wall sconce, the murky fire incited something inside me. I figured it was combined with the harsh situation I’d just faced in front of Ingvus, and the mention ofslaughter, and my head reeled back suddenly.

A repressed memory swept through me, unbidden, fragmented because I had pushed it down for so long.

Torchbearers, screaming through the woods.

Enraged faces, led by hounds, eager for blood—eager to strike down the feral, uncivilized boy raised by feral, uncivilized men.

Kerr and Koll, my fathers, protecting me to the last, even as the torches, pitchforks, and spears surrounded our woodland cabin.

My first berserk rage at seeing them murdered before me, in cold blood, and left on the muddied soil with their blood slashed across the leaves on the ground.

Only putting up a fight to save me—not to save themselves. Because they hadn’t wanted to harm humans.

My nostrils flared, both in the memory and in real time.

My body went taut.

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